To Bleed Dry
by paging tigerlily
Summary: Brucas Story: 1st season when Brooke finds our Lucas cheated on her with Peyton. Brooke is slowly slipping away. She finds herself on a dark and deadly road. She needs someone there to save her, but the only guy that can do that for her broke her heart.
1. broken mirror

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of One Tree Hill.

Summary: Story takes place back in first season when Brooke found out Lucas cheated on her with Peyton and how she deals with it. Her methods of making the pain go away prove to be dangerous and even deadly.

Coupling: Brooke and Lucas

Author's Note: I wrote a story that will be similar to this one. I just never finished the other one. This is a dark fiction, so don't read it if you are squeamish.

To Bleed Dry

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So this is me now. I never thought that I would be in this position. I am supposed to be the rich, snobby slut that the girls hate and the guys dream of. I'm not supposed to have a heart or fall in love. I should be the queen of flings and one night stands. I am not supposed to let guys in. I told myself this for the longest time. Guys only break you. I can't believe that I knew that and still did what I did.

I allowed a boy to bring down my walls that I had spent a lifetime putting around me. He took down the walls that mask who I really am. He managed to hurt me. I am not supposed to hurt. I shouldn't feel either. My emotions have only gotten the best of me in the past, and now in the present. I also recently discovered that people are not who they say they are. People always let you down. Friends should never let you down, especially your best friends.

Lucas Scott. That is the name of the one guy I ever let myself go for. I told him things that I had never told anyone and I allowed myself to love who he is and everything about him. Guys used to be toys to me. I would play with them one night and the leave them before the sun came. The system of sex and dash worked for me for so long and I regret breaking my routine.

Peyton Sawyer. She is my ex-best friend. I have known her for the longest time. I helped her get through a rough times when were younger and she would help me too. I thought I knew who she was. I thought that knowing someone and loving someone for that long was supposed to mean something. I was wrong. People lie and deceive to get what they want with no regard for others. That is what she is like and she no longer means anything to me.

Neither of them mean a thing to me anymore. Ever since I caught them in bed together on the web cam. I know that they weren't sleeping with each other, but I knew they were seeing each other. And the fact that they lied about it right to my face stabs my heart. I can't believe that they would do that to me. Seeing them together on the monitor killed me.

The experience of being lied to and hurt has taught me to go with my first instincts and they told me to never trust anyone because people only cause you pain.

So here I am looking at myself in the bathroom in a nightclub. The bathroom is small and grimy. The mirror that I am staring into is fogged and cracked. I have been here for a few hours, drinking and dancing with random guys trying to make the feeling to go away. I now feel numb and dizzy. I look at my reflection and I am disgusted. My hair is messy and wild and my black eye make up is smudged, making me look sick and dark. I look like a slut in my black leather mini skirt and black halter top. This is the image I want to portray. I want to be the person I was before all of the drama.

Tears unconsciously spring from my eyes, making my make up run. It's so weird that I am crying. I know I feel sad and that I want to cry like there is no tomorrow, but I can't control my tears and I am so numb. I am so sick of myself, of who I am, and what I let happen. All the anger builds up in me and I do it before I am even aware.

I hear the shattering sound and I feel the pain shock my right hand. As I look at my fist and see only red blood spilling from open wounds on my knuckles, and I realize that I have lost all control. I've lost control of my actions and my mind. The small pieces of mirror in my skin make my hand throb. The pain intensifies when I unclench my fist. Strangely, as the pain thumps in my hand, I feel a sense of release, almost like a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I see my reflection in the left over shards of mirror. I see my soul in relation to the mirror- broken. I release more tears and crumble to the ground.

In my mind I keep going over the situation, but I don't know where I could have gone wrong. I keep wondering how could they do this to me? Didn't either of them love me? I submitted myself to him and he just pushed me back. I just want him to love me like I love him. Why?

There are no answers to my questions because the only people that have them are the people that I don't think I could face again. I sit against a wall of the bathroom and just cry. I cry because of my failure. I cry because even though he hurt me, I'm still madly in love with Lucas Scott. I cry because I have no one anymore.

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This is just a little intro into the story. Just to show you how Brooke is feeling. Plot shall thicken eventually. So how do you like??


	2. day in hell

Review! Review please!

To Bleed Dry

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BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Goddamn! Another day of school, which in my mind is the equivalent to an eternity in hell. I hit the alarm clock and read the time. 7:15. I just turned around and pulled my warm sheets over my head. I just want to lay in bed and sleep. I'm not ready to face them. The whole incident happened over two weeks ago, but I'm never ready for them. I never want the day to come when I finally have to talk about the situation with them. I don't know what I'd say to either of them. 'Hey Lucas, you may have screwed me over big time, but I just can't seem to stop loving you,' doesn't seem appropriate. And neither does, 'Hey Peyton, backstabbing bitchy home-wrecker, does the term friendship mean a thing to you?' It doesn't sound as harsh as it should.

Alas, I must face the day and I manage to crawl out of bed and face the daylight streaming through my window. I squint against the light as I make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. I look at my reflection once again. I've been looking at myself a lot lately, not because I'm vain, but because I am not the person I want to be or the person I was when I was in the land of ignorance two weeks ago.

I look from the mirror down to my right fist. I hadn't bandaged it last night and it looked raw and infected. There weren't any more pieces of glass in it though, so all she needed was a clean bandage. It was a really stupid decision to punch the mirror. But it wasn't really my decision. A dark part of my mind took over in that instance. I shudder at the memory of the Brooke Davis that appeared last night. I know I'll never look the same again.

I strip naked and climb into the shower. I let the scalding hot water burn my skin and sting the open wounds on my fist. Last night I felt numb, due to the alcohol. Sometimes I love the feeling of floating on air and having thoughts of nothing in my mind. Other times I snap out of it and realize that it is better to feel something, rather than nothing, even if the feeling is pain. I let the pain of my heart and the pain of my body mix in the morning shower and get ready for hell, school.

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"Mom, I'm gonna get going now!" I scream up the stairs as I pass it. I grab an apple on my way out of the kitchen. I step out into a new morning and into my car. Another day. I put the car into ignition and start on my way to school. School, the place of the Tree Hill drama series. I don't want any of the drama I have. I do deserve it though. The whole Peyton and Brook fiasco was still going strong and my days at school were always filled with awkward tension.

Do I love Peyton or Brooke? I don't know. I always ask this of myself and come up with the same answer. They are both great girls and they both have great qualities, but my heart and mind are in a battle and in the end I don't know what I want.

Peyton and I have this bond. It's not one I can explain. We love the same music and style. We connect on a mental level. I just understand her and she automatically gets me. We are perfect for each other and that's why we're now giving a relationship a shot. She's my girlfriend. It's what I've always wanted. She needs me and I love being the one that she turns to. She's been my dream girl ever since junior high.

Brooke. I can't say enough about her. She's fun, and wild, and crazy. But there is also this side to her that no one gets to see. She feels and she is emotional and insecure, she has dreams and aspirations, she is a great person that is completely misunderstood like I am. I got to connect with her while we were dating, but I don't know if the connection was a love connection.

I am confused as hell. I round the last corner and arrive at the school parking lot. I park in my usual place and get out. Peyton is waiting there for me at the curb. I smile at her and I walk over to her. I give her a hug and a peck on the lips, not wanting to flaunt the relationship.

"Hey Luke," Peyton said, "How are you doing? After last night I wouldn't be surprised if you had a bit of a head ache after all you drank."

I laughed and put my arm around her. She was talking about the club last night. After we won the first playoff game, everyone decided to get their fake IDs and hit a club. I of course used the ID Brooke gave me. I got pretty hammered after chilling with Peyton and the rest of the gang, minus Brooke. I saw her and tried to keep an eye on her. Despite the fact that we are no longer together and she hates me, I care about her and want to make sure she doesn't get into any trouble. She was dressed in a provocative ensemble of black and leather. She got drunk and danced with about every guy in the club, laughing and having a good time. She is obviously over me.

"No, I am perfectly alright to endure a couple of hours of intellectual smothering," I replied to her.

Peyton and I walked to into school and to her locker. As we were walking we passed Brooke. I couldn't help but stare at her. She was flawless in her looks and she breezed past us without a second glance. At the last moment, I turned around caught a glimpse of her eyes. Despite the dimpled smile pasted onto her face, her eyes did not portray the same happiness. They were dull, cold and dead. A sadness hit me because I know that I am the one that did this to her. I hurt her. I am the one that betrayed her.

I look down at Peyton at my side and smile at her. I just hope that in the end, what I put Brooke through will not be in vain. I know I have to make up with Brooke. I want everything between me and Brooke to be resolved. Maybe I'll catch her after practice. I walk with Peyton to English wishing the day would go as slow as possible so he could have a lot of time to think of what would be adequate to say to Brooke. I can try, but I don't think anything would be adequate in this situation.

I glance once again at the clock. The goddamn time is not going fast enough. I look at Mr. Feldman at the front of the class. He's grading assignments while we have to start a writing assignment. The topic is to write about a life-changing event in your life and how it has affected you. I laughed in my head as soon as he assigned it. It just figures.

-----

I stare down at the blank sheet of paper before me. I have a week to complete it. I don't know if I want to write about what recently happened or about the time when my dog Princess ran away, which by the way had me at home in my room for a week. I look down at my bandaged hand and sigh. Writing about the breakup could help me in a way. I can't talk about it so maybe writing it down won't be as traumatizing. I close my notebook and stand just as the bell goes off on cue.

I walk to my next period, which is a free in the promenade. I instructed all of the cheerleaders to come so we could practice new stunts for the next couple of important games. Of course getting all of the cheerleaders together would include Peyton. Getting through practice was always hard with her there. Part of me wants to beat in her face with a bat and another part of me wants to fall to my knees and ask her why. Of course I choose a different method, say little to nothing and anything I do say will have to be either insulting or brief. I will not let her know that she has gotten the best of me.

I get to the girls locker room and change into my brown sweat suit and run outside to meet the girls. I can see the girls are already there. As I approach I can hear Bevin talking with Jamie about how she thought that chocolate was good for skin rather than bad and had eaten a lot and as a result has broken out. I sighed and smiled over her ditzyness. I also see Peyton talking to Theresa. It is hard looking at Peyton without becoming angry. I push my thoughts of Peyton aside. I will not allow her to occupy my thoughts. There are better things to think about.

"Come on girls! Line up in your stunt group formations and everyone except my stunt team, hit a half," I yelled. My stunt group stood aside and watched with me as all of the girls got into the stunt. I saw Peyton as flyer in the stunt group to the far right stunt.

"Now everyone push up to full!"

The girls pushed up their arms the that the four flyers were higher in the stunt. I walk from the left side to the right to assess the damage.

"Bevin, straighten your arms and stand more firm. Theresa, don't twist your arm! Do you want to break your wrist? And if you do, I'll kill you. Jamie, sweetie, straighten your legs! Danielle, look up at the flyer. Pay attention at all times because when she breaks a leg, you, the back spot, will always be blamed." I finally got to Peyton and I'm going to have fun with this one.

"Well, well. Peyton. Here's some advice. Straighten those anorexic, skinny arms, suck in the belly, and tighten up the jell-o ass in the back. And of course don't forget to smile. You know the smile you put on when you're sneaking behind my back and whoring around with my boytoy. I like to call it the Peyton –is-a-whore-bitch smile."

I looked up at Peyton who scowled and looked straight ahead. I was expecting it to be more satisfying, but it wasn't enough.

"Okay you cows, twist down on three. One… two… three."

Everyone twisted down with perfect form. I smiled on the inside, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing that they looked amazing. I decided to do the stunt myself.

"Come on girls," I say toward my stunt group. I get into position and jump into the stunt. I hit the half and jabbed my arms into a V. The group pushes to a full and instead of just a single twist, I do a double. I was very satisfied with the practice.

"Okay girls, we have tumbling and jump practice today after school at three thirty," I said, as everyone moaned, "If we want to be the best then we have to work harder. Besides working on new cheers and routines, we have a competition coming up in two months. So let's get it together."

After I'm done talking, I take a sip of my water and gather my books. I turn around and Peyton is standing in front of me. She attempts to stare me down, but I don't budge.

"You know what Brooke, you're my friend no matter what, even if you do hate me at the moment. But right about now, you can go to hell," Peyton snarls.

"Look around Peyt. We're in hell and you are not making it any better. Now if you would move out of my way, I have other things to do," I say. I turn on my heel and stride away to history. I hate her, but then again I love her. I just want everything back to the way it used to be, but nothing will ever be the same. Not after what's happened.

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So what do you think? Should I or should I not continue. Please leave a comment. Thanx!


	3. confrontation of hate

Here is the next chapter. Sorry it is really late; I've had some stuff to do. Please review and give me your input. It helps!

To Bleed Dry

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(Lucas POV)

I feel the sweat trickle down my neck as I walk into the gym after completing my run. I walk into the gym and see the rest of the team taking three pointers on one side and I see the cheerleading team practicing on the other. My eyes immediately go to Brooke who is performing a series of back flips and handsprings across the blue mat set out. I then look at Peyton who follows her with simple handsprings.

I walk over to the bleachers and take a large swig of my bottle of water, the cold liquid cooling me down. I take deeps breaths as I sit down and watch the rest of the team practice. I'm filled with envy at the sight of them being able to take easy shots extending their arms into the air. My shoulder has been killing me ever since the accident and I was seriously thinking about giving up till Nathan gave me a pep talk and told me to get through the pain. Even though I'm not particularly fond of Nathan, he made me want to get back into the swing of things. I'm not allowed to practice, but I can sure as hell stay in shape till I can.

I see Nathan take a three pointer with ease and I hear the swish. I once again look over at the cheerleaders. Brooke was standing in front of the girls directing them in their jumps. She is beautiful even if she is wearing workout clothes. She expertly does a jump and touches her toes with perfect flexibility, which by the way was a great advantage in bed. I think about our late night make out sessions and our talks lying in the grass looking up at the dark sky. And then I snap out of it. I keep reminding myself that she's not my girlfriend anymore. I didn't choose her. I chose Peyton.

I look at Peyton. The girl that I am supposed to be with… I think. She is perfect for me. We love all of the same things. We like the same movies and music and art. She knows where I'm coming from every time we talk and she always manages to give me the answers to my problems. I am supposed to be with her. I am… am I?

"Hey Lucas!" Whitey calls and pulls me from my daydream. I get up and jog over to him. I see that while I was daydreaming practice ended for both teams. The last of the basketball team was walking out of the gym and the girls were putting away their mats.

"What's up Coach?"

"Nothing, son. Just wanted to let you know that you can't push it. I know that you're dedicated and you're doing a great job keeping up with the team even though you can't play yet. Just don't overdo it. No more than two miles a day and an hour and a half in the weight room. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Coach," I answered him. I had done four miles today and had done two hours in the weight room. I guess he noticed and decided to put a stop to it. I scowl as I walk past him and back to the bench to get my backpack. As I made my out of the gym, I remember that I had to talk to Brooke. I stop and look for her. She was the last cheerleader in the gym and was just about to get up from the bench to leave. Now was my chance.

"Brooke!" I called after her. I tried to jog after her, but she tried to quicken her walk. I caught up to her and stepped in front of her, stopping the both of us in the middle of the gym.

"Brooke hold-up. I need to talk to you."

"Lucas, get out of my way. I have absolutely nothing to say to you."

"Brooke, you may not have anything to say to me, but I need to talk to you. I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you."

Brooke laughed at this remark and shook her head. I wanted her to get that I didn't mean for things to end up the way they did. Brooke finally looked up to meet my eyes. There they were again, her frozen cold eyes. They pierced into my heart.

"Brooke. I didn't want it to be this way. It wasn't meant to happen the way it did. I didn't want you to get hurt. I am so sorry. I know that no matter how many times I say that, that it won't be enough, but I really am."

Her eyes turned from their icy chill to fiery anger.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare try to apologize. Don't tell me that you never meant for it to be this way because that is total bullshit. You are so full of it. So you didn't mean to become involved in a relationship with me while still knew in your heart that you loved Peyton? You didn't mean to tell me that you cared about me when you really didn't? Did you mean to cheat on me with Peyton and lie about it to my face? How about breaking my heart into a million pieces? Huh? Was that just an accident to?"

At this point Brooke had dropped all of her bags on the floor and was about a foot away from me in my face. Tears had sprung from her beautiful, sad eyes while she spoke. I felt like shit. The guilt hit me with every word that came from her mouth.

"Fuck you Lucas. Fuck you! You are so selfish. You knew what you were doing from day one and chose to ignore it so that you could get yourself some ass while waiting around for the real deal. Even if you didn't mean for any of this to happen, it did anyway. And now you have proven yourself to be like the everyday normal guy- a twofaced ass, also known as the typical man whore. Just when I thought that maybe there was hope, you had to shove it in my face and remind me why I don't trust people. Now you have Peyton and when you screw her over, I hope you hurt her twenty times worse. I want her to burn cause that's what happens to evil bitches."

"Brooke! Just stop for a second. Stop for one goddamn second. You have to believe that I care about you."

She was still on fire and she continued to yell.

"You know you have a great way of showing it!"

"Just wait. I don't want you to be like this anymore. I want to be there for you as a friend. Even though we're not together anymore, you can still talk to me. You told me everything when we were together. I can still be there for you."

"That's the thing, Luke. We're not together anymore. You reminded me why I hate dating guys. I regret everything secret that I told you when we were together because despite everything I gave to you, you let me fall on my face. To top it all off, you're with Peyton now."

"Brooke…"

"I hate you," I heard her whisper in a hushed voice and wide eyes as though she had realized it and allowed it to slip out. Those three words were like a knife through my heart. She looked up and out eyes met. I looked deep into them hoping that they would falter and that I would find that the words weren't true. But I found no flicker. My mouth hung open, not knowing what to say and my brows furrowed. I felt my eyes glass over, but did not allow tears to fall.

She tore her eyes away from mine. Brooke hurriedly collected her things and stalked quickly off, leaving me standing there. The words resounded in my mind, 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.' I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. I could only stand there and wonder why I cared so much. She's not my girlfriend anymore, I'm with Peyton.

I stood there for what seemed like hours and finally got the feeling back in my feet to move, but our conversation still left me uneasy. I think I'm going to go to Peyton's to shake this feeling off. 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.'

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(Brooke POV)

'I hate you, I hate you.'

The words came from my lips. The poisonous words crept from my lips into the air. The look in his eyes, his open mouth: I hurt him. I hurt him like he had hurt me and in the moment it felt good and right and satisfying. Now I feel like shit. I park my car in the driveway and get out. I walk to my front door, put my key in the lock, and walk into an empty household.

I dump my bags in the foyer and head up the stairs to my room where I find myself in front of the vanity mirror. My eyes are red and my mascara and eyeliner are gone. My cheeks are blotchy and tearstained. If I could see my soul in the mirror, it would be black with cracks and holes in it. I hurt everywhere. My body and my heart ache with indescribable pain.

I walk from my vanity into my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and it's almost as if a force is pushed through me. I begin to cry in that instant. I prop my hands onto the sink and lean forward. I sob as a river of pain pours from my eyes into the sink below. My body heaves and I try to suppress the onslaught of cries. My attempts are futile and I continue.

I hate my reflection. I hate who I am. The same feelings of pain I felt on the night at the club rush over me and my injured fist comes up on impulse and smashes the mirror. There was a loud crashing sound and the shards flew everywhere. I felt the numbing pain in my hand as it begins to bleed through the bandage on it. I feel a dull pain on my cheek that was caused by a cut. There was also a slash on my wrist that stung and burned.

My sobs quieted into whimpers and then to just tears. My breathing slowed down and I was able to take a deep relaxing breath. I then brought my left arm up to face level and examined my wrist. The surface cut oozed bright crimson blood that ran in rivulets down to my elbow. The beautiful color entranced me and I was able to produce a small smirk through my tears. It was in that moment I was hit with a revelation.

I picked up a small shard of glass from the floor and examined it. There was a sharp point. I brought the point down to my left wrist. I placed it right under my other cut and felt the cool glass on my skin. I then put pressure and pierced my skin. I relished in the first moment of pain and then let it glide another inch across my pale skin. I cry out in agony as I do this. Blood began its flow and I closed my eyes concentrating on the pain at hand and ignoring emotional pain eating up my heart.

After finishing the job I washed the wounds with hot water, feeling the burn, and bandaged them. I crawled into bed began to cry. I cried myself into a peaceful slumber.

I awoke once again to the pesky alarm clock. I shut it off and made my way out of bed and to the bathroom. I walked around the maze of glass scattered on the bathroom floor. I took a seat on the toilet and looked at my arms. My right fist has bled through the bandage and my left wrist had as well.

I carefully unravel the bandage around my hand and wrist. I wince at the pain caused by the action. The blood had dried and crusted making the separation difficult. I tossed the bandages into the trash bin and then gaze at my hands.

Two of the knuckles on my right hand were open and raw. There were cuts on my fingers and my knuckles were bruised a nasty shade of purple.

'Okay no more punching mirrors,' I told myself. It isn't easy to conceal and hurts like a bitch considering that I am right handed. No more.

The two cuts on my left wrist were clean and perfect. The skin was open, but not bleeding. I finished examining my arms and get up. I take off my clothes and hop into the shower. I allow the water to wake me up.

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There is the next chapter. Let me know what you think about it. Review! The next chapter will be up in a few and more shall happen. I promise.


	4. fall to pieces

Thank you for reviewing! Sorry I haven't written for a while. I was really busy and distracted. Here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

To Bleed Dry

(Brooke's POV)

So it became a routine. Every night before I went to sleep, I would hurt myself. I wouldn't always cut because that would be impractical, but anything that produced excruciating physical pain, I was up for.

I am now on my way to school in my car. The stereo is blasting music and I rock my head to the beat. School was a routine now as well. I would walk into school with a smile on my face and my stylish clothes on and act peachy, as though everything in the world was perfect. I would go from class to class and pick up what I could with my short attention span. I would pretty much be plastic and perky. The double P's that I lived by.

I drove into the school parking lot and parked in my usual parking spot. I got out of my car and headed into the school building. 'Here we go,' I thought. I pasted on my smile and walked with the typical Brooke swagger, occasionally winking or nodding to acquaintances. That's all they were to me, acquaintances. I can no longer have any emotional attachment to anyone; it's just too hard.

I walk to my locker and open it up. I shovel my books around to get ready for my classes. As I pull a notebook out, a picture falls from its pages and onto the floor. I put the notebook in my arms and squat down to pick up the photo. My breath catches in my throat and I take a few seconds to look at the moment captured on film.

It was of Lucas and I on the beach. He was sitting on a towel and I was sitting between his legs, my back leaning against his chest. He had his broody thinking face on and I had a look of happiness and content. We both were looking out at the ocean and the sun was just about to set. I remember that day and the warmth and acceptance I felt. I remember the feeling of absolute bliss and I shudder at the thought of Lucas not feeling the same way at the moment of the picture. Peyton had taken the picture for us. Peyton was there, witnessing my happiness and yet she did what she did anyway.

I scowl at the picture of me during my state of stupidity and I crumple and throw the picture back onto the floor. I slam my locker close and I stalk to my next class, forgetting the smile that I was supposed to be wearing. I was instead wielding a frown and a look of anger. The face of what I really felt.

(Lucas' POV)

The lyrics of the song "Photograph" by Nickelback play in my ears. I tap my pen to the beat, trying to concentrate on my history paper. I try to think about the American Revolution, but my mind keeps tending to drift elsewhere. I look around the promenade at other students and then I glance to my front. Peyton was sitting in front of me doing her homework as well. My mind goes from the Revolution to the lyrics of the song.

_Every memory of looking out the back door  
I had the photo album spread out on my bedroom floor  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye.  
Every memory of walking out the front door  
I found the photo of the friend that I was looking for  
It's hard to say it, time to say it  
Goodbye, goodbye._

My mind drifted back to the conversation I had with Brooke. Well, more like that argument I had with Brooke four days ago. I haven't attempted to speak with her since then. I catch her eyes in the hallway every once in a while, but I can't read them. They are void of emotion.

The "I-hate-you's" still linger in my mind. She was so angry and broken and honest. She meant every word she said that day. Brooke Davis hated me. I don't know why I care so much, but I do. Maybe it's because she would be a great friend or maybe because of who I know she has potential to be, that I want to help her. I am not fooled like everyone else. I can see through her and she is struggling.

But she said it. She said her goodbye to me. She made it loud and clear that she didn't want to talk to me again. I have to though. I need to. I have to push and persist and even if she hates me even more than she already does, in the end I'll know that I tried my hardest. I don't want to end our relationship with that last argument and with those last three words.

_I miss that town  
I miss the faces  
You can't erase  
You can't replace it  
I miss it now  
I can't believe it  
So hard to stay  
Too hard to leave it_

I look across from me at Peyton. I don't know what she would think if I started talking with Brooke again. Peyton told me how she has been trying with Brooke and how Brooke has answered her with nothing but hatred. I look at the golden locks that frame Peyton's pale face. The same locks that got stuck to the necklace that Brooke got me when we temporarily lost control at the motel.

I am disappointed in myself. I am ashamed of the way I behaved and what I have done. Haley is mad at me and is momentarily not speaking to me. I had an argument with her about her relationship with Nathan a week ago and she retaliated by commenting on my relationship with Peyton and Brooke. Everything was falling apart.

I can't lose any of them. I know I have to talk to Haley and in a while, maybe I give another try at talking it over with Brooke. I don't know what I'd do without any of my friends. I look back at the past and realize how lucky I am to have Haley and to have had Brooke for a little while.

_If I could I relive those days  
I know the one thing that would never_

I know that I don't regret every going out with Brooke. In the beginning of the relationship, I have gotten with her because I was on the rebound, but there were moments of our time together that I would never trade in for the world. There was the time when she took me to get a tattoo. And the time when she decided that she wanted to walk on every street in Tree Hill and it took us all day to finish the task. I ended up giving her a piggyback ride home because she chose to wear her cute shoes instead of the practical sneaker and got blisters. There was the night on the beach when we stayed there till sunset with Peyton and stayed on the beach long after Peyton decided to leave. We just looked up at the stars and talked about our futures and fears and hopes. She had allowed me into her heart that night and I saw a side of Brooke that no one else knows. I felt privileged to be her boyfriend.

I sigh and close my book. There I no way I am going to get this paper done. I look at Peyton who glanced at her watch and then closed her books too, deciding she had had enough. She folded her arms on the table and grinned at me. I chuckled at her.

"What are you thinking?" she asked me.

"About everything and nothing in particular," I answered slyly.

"Want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Sure."

"Brooke," she answered curtly. She let out a sigh.

"Were you thinking about her too?" she asked me.

"Yeah I was for a moment there," I answer back at her. Peyton casts her eyes down at the table. "What were we doing Peyton?"

Peyton looks up at me and raises her eyebrows questioningly.

"No, I don't mean to say that I'm not glad to be with you because I am. But why did we do it this way? I mean, we hurt Brooke. This is the kind of shit you see in movies and never really happens in real life and I never imagined myself cheating on anyone ever. I'm not blaming it on you, rather on the situation. What were we thinking?"

I saw Peyton's sigh of relief as I clarified my response.

"I don't really know what we were thinking," Peyton said. I could see her thinking face on. I sighed and just stared at her, the girl for whom betrayed my virtues. I never thought that I would cheat or lie or become involved in a relationship that I knew I wasn't committed to, but it happened. I wish it hadn't happened the way it did. I just couldn't make up my mind and when Brooke came to me, I acted upon impulse, rather than what my heart was saying. It wasn't saying that I could never love Brooke; it was telling me that I couldn't fully love this person until I am over Peyton. I jumped in without thinking and landed and broke Brooke in the process. I hate self-discovery.

"Lucas, are you having second thoughts about our relationship?" Peyton asked me.

"No, no of course not."

"Okay. Good, cause I don't know what I'd do without either one of my best friends right now," Peyton explained to me.

"It'll be okay Peyton. Brooke will be okay. Just give her time," She leaned across the table and gave me a kiss on the lips. I returned the small favor while trying to convince myself, rather than her, that everything will be okay. I'm not too sure.

(Brooke's POV)

I saw them in the quad. They were kissing again. At that moment I could literally feel the bile churning in my stomach, threatening to come up. The tender kisses he once shared with me are now meaningless because all the while he really wanted to share them with another girl. I quickly walked to my locker to collect my books to go home.

I walked straight ahead and the sea of students parted for me. I gave curt smiles and the occasional wave, my hand no longer bandaged up. It had healed over and was good as new. No one would ever be able to tell what I felt by my exterior, well all except for my forearm, which was battered.

I turn the corner in disgust and I accidentally run into a body. I hear a shocked help and I stumble backwards a few steps. Standing in front of me is Tutorgirl or Haley. She crouches down and quickly retrieves the books that had fallen in the collision. She stands up again and mutters a sorry. And then she looked up and locked eyes with me. I could immediately read her expression. It was of pity. She didn't have to voice her condolences. No one would dare say them to her face, but she could see it.

"Yeah, whatever," I quickly say and I walk past her as though the run in did not shake me. As I walk I glance at the faces that dare to glance at me. They are all sorry for me. Their pity is smothering. I have to get out of here. I hold my head higher and I stride to my car. It was already towards the end of the day, so skipping my gym and art class wouldn't kill her.

I get into my car and drive out of the parking lot. I head to one of the only places I found comfort. I turned on the radio and nodded my head to the tunes as I completed the half hour drive to the beach. I park my car and slip my shoes off.

I walked down boardwalk and I feel relief when my feet hit the damp, cool sand. The chilling wind and cold air sent chills through my body. I hug my jean jacket tighter around me as I walk down closer to the shoreline. I stop just before my toes touch the water.

Lucas and I came down to the beach almost every other day of the week. It wasn't warm when we were dating, but we both appreciated its beauty. We would stay out all night on a blanket and just talk. We'd walk out onto the rock jetties and look at the ocean. The beach was a place that both of us understood. Now, for me, it's just a place of memories.

I look around at familiar places and I sigh. Every place that I have ever been with him will never be the same. He has left his mark everywhere. Hell, I can't even go to the drugstore without thinking about the time Deb caught us buying whip cream and condoms. I chuckle a little at the memory of Lucas' face.

As I watch the sun set, I realize nothing will be the same again. Beauty will never hold the same meaning.

(Brooke's POV)

I open my front door and toss my bags on the floor. Cheerleading practice was coming along well. The routine was revamped and the tricks were amazing. I am going to blow Claire Young out of the water, I thought.

I close the door behind me, kicked off my shoes and pulled off my socks. I walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. As I entered the kitchen, I saw the housekeeper, Louisa, crying. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her hands on her head and her back shook as she silently whimpered.

"Louisa," I said apprehensively. She was surprised at my voice and stood up immediately. The elderly housekeeper sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

"Are you alright?" I asked her. I gave her a small smile and she nodded.

"Miss Davis, you have an important message on the machine," she said to me without looking at me. I nod my head and she curtly nods and exits the kitchen. I turn around to watch her leave. I wonder what's going on with her, I thought to myself.

I walked to the refrigerator and grab a water bottle. I opened it up took a long swig and walked over to the answering machine. I pressed the button on it and leaned against the counter, waiting for the message to play.

"You have three new messages," said the mechanical voice of the machine.

"Message one: Brooke. Brooke, please. We need to talk. I know that sorry doesn't mean a lot to you right now, but you have to know that you're my best friend and that I love you. I know you won't call me back, but I'm trying and I'm not going to stop. BEEP."

Peyton. I scowl and shake my head.

"Message two: Brooke, darling, it's mommy."

Ugh. Just another one of her courtesy calls. It's not like my parents actually cared.

"Well, just wanted to call you to tell you that we're in the Bahamas right now and that we're going to be home in a couple of days. Ta ta. BEEP."

Well, I never hold my breath when it comes to my parents and their excursions. They're probably off to some other exotic paradise.

"Message three: This is a call for Brooke Penelope Davis regarding her parents, Daniel and Samantha Davis. I regret having to be the one to inform you that their private jet malfunctioned and crashed on their way home from the Bahamas on yesterday afternoon. I'm even more sorry to report that neither on of your parents made it. I'm sorry for your loss and I hope that you will be able to recuperate, but I need to speak with you about other matters concerning your father's will as soon as possible. Hope to hear from you soon. And again, I am very sorry for your loss. BEEP."

I can't speak. I can't breathe. I can't think. Instead, I run. I run out of the door, across the street, through the park, through the cemetery and to the bridge- the bridge by the River court. I just stand there. I stand there for what seems like hours. I don't speak, I don't breathe, I don't think. I am just being as I look over the water.

I open my dry lips and scream. A blood curling, heart wrenching cry. I scream again and again and again until I can't anymore. My throat is raw and burning as I close my lips and end the loud assault. Then I crumbled. I fell to my knees and cried. The tears pouring like rivers down my face.

My parents never really showed their affection for me. Ever since I was young they would leave me with a nanny and only visit me. Louisa was my caretaker since I was born. They never gave two shits about me. Never kissed my booboos, they never played with me at the park; they never read books to me night and tucked me into my bed. They were close to nonexistent when it came to me growing up.

So why am I crying? Why am I making a fuss over them when they never fussed about me? Why should them being gone upset me?

I look up at the dark sky and feel the pelting drops of rain on my face. They mix with my tears and soak me to the bone. As I sat there on the bridge, I came to a conclusion.

I'm crying because I love my mommy and daddy, in spite of everything. Every meaningless phone call they made to me was held in my heart. The occasional hug or kiss meant the world to me in that small, miniscule moment. But those moments were over because mommy and daddy are dead.

(Lucas' POV)

I dribbled the ball as I made my way to the River court for my Saturday morning workout. I crossed the street and made my way to the bridge. The sounds of Dashboard rang through my headphones as I got to the bridge. I looked up from the pavement and saw an unsettling sight.

Brooke was curled up on the sidewalk pavement asleep. She was damp and grungy from last night's rain. I quickly approached her sleeping form and pulled my earphones from my ears. I knelt down beside her and set my basketball down.

Brooke's eyes were puffy and her makeup had run making her eyes smudged and smoky.

"Brooke," I whispered in my attempt to wake her. She did not stir so I hesitantly put my hand on her shoulder. I gently shook her awake.

"Brooke?"

Brooke jumped up, as she was shocked out of her slumber. Her dark eyes were wide open as she slowly turned her eyes to meet mine. I moved my hand from her arm as she lifted herself up from the sidewalk. She just sat there and stared at me with her emotionless eyes. She turned her head and took in her surroundings as though she didn't know where she was.

I took a breath as to say something, but I quickly swallowed it. What would I say to her? I had no idea what was going on.

Brooke once again looked at me and her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. Rivers just flowed from her eyes and I just watched her, this beautiful, broken creature. I know that she hate me at the moment, but I couldn't resist. I sad on my butt next to her and tentatively, without breaking eye contact, wrapped my left arm around her. I felt her start at my touch and then relax. I wrapped my arm around her and slowly pulled her in to me. I felt her lean in to me and put her head on my shoulder. That's when she completely broke down. A part of me was breaking inside. I didn't know what was wrong, but to see her like this was painful.

Her body shook and wracked with sobs and I held her tight. We sat there for about twenty minutes before she finally calmed down enough to start breathing evenly. As much as I didn't want to let her go, I knew I had to in order to get some answers.

I slowly pulled away from her and sat so that I was facing her. Her head was downcast, hiding her tearstained face and red eyes.

"Brooke, what's going on?"

Brooke wiped her eyes and ran her hand through her hair as though she were trying to pretend nothing was the matter and that nothing happened.

"Brooke, look, I know that you," I took a breath, "I know that you… hate me, but you can still tell me what's wrong."

Brooke just shook her head and bit her lip. She started to breath strangely as though she were going to start crying again. She just kept shaking her head.

"How about this. You don't have to tell me what's wrong. I could just walk you home and forget what happened, or you could tell me what happened and I'll drive you home and you can forget we had the conversation. How about that?"

I sighed and rubbed the back of my head. I was in a predicament. Here she was, a total mess. Something is obviously the matter, something serious, and she won't say a word. I want to help her, but I'm the one person that she doesn't want to be around.

"My…" Brooke whispered almost inaudibly.

I turned my head to her and listened intently. I was silently willing her to talk.

"My mom… and my dad," she said as the tears once again began their silent flow down her face.

"They're gone," she said as her voice cracked.

"They're gone. They're gone. They're gone," Brooke repeated over and over again as she rocked back and forth.

My heart broke for Brooke. I couldn't imagine losing my mom and Keith.

"Brooke, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

What else could you say to someone who just lost her parents? "They're in a better place" or "This was meant to be." Nothing sufficed.

"Let's go," I said as I got to my feet and gently grabbed onto Brooke's forearm. I helped her up onto her bare feet. I don't think she even knew what was going on as we began our slow walk back to her house. After twenty-five silent minutes we got back to her house. I opened up her front door and led her up to her bedroom. I sat her down on her bed and went to the bathroom to get her a towel.

I was stunned when I walked into the bathroom. Her mirror was broken with some of the shards on the bathroom floor. Some of the shards were covered with dry blood. Brooke, what has happened to you, I thought as I grabbed her towel and quickly get back to Brooke. Brooke is like a zombie as I unzip her hoodie and pull it off. Taking off her wet shirt soon follows. I go into her drawers and grab a big t-shirt. I pull it over her head. I then slip off her wet track pants. I take the towel and do what I can to dry her hair. When I finished I knelt in front of her.

"Brooke, do you want me to leave?" I ask her hoping she would say no. But she nods her head for me to depart and I must comply, as it was part of the deal. I gave her a half smile and got up to leave.

"Lucas," she says as I stop and turn around. "Remember. This never happened."

I nodded and once again walk to leave, but not without stealing one more glance of her. She just sat and stared at the floor. Broken, defeated, and lonely. She was in the darkest of places and I don't know if anyone could pull her out.

So review please. I promise I won't wait this long to update ever again.


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